The End Where I Begin
by AngelisIgniRelucent
Summary: Sometimes tears say all there is to sayAnd sometimes your first scars won't ever fade awayTrying to break my heart, well it's brokeTrying to hang me high, well I'm chokedWant it to rain on me, well I'm soakedSoaked to the skinIt's the end, where I begin


**Between seasons 3&4 Samfic. This is kinda him 'getting over' Dean with a bit of implied help from everyone's favourite hellbitch. Disclaimer: I don't own the characters or the song, which is 'The End where I begin' by The Script (again, I know. Can you tell I'm just a lil bit obsessed with them?)**

_Sometimes tears say all there is to say._

_And sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away._

Trying to explain how you feel. It's pointless, really. How can you possibly articulate your feelings when you can't even bring yourself to speak? The guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak is not just a part of you. It's all that makes you up. Everything feels pointless to you now. Except the Hunt. Except for Revenge. Because what's the point of anything when Dean's gone?

_Trying to break my heart, well it's broke._

_Trying to hang me high, well I'm choked._

_Want it to rain on me, well I'm soaked. _

_Soaked to the skin._

The Hunt for Revenge. It's consumed you. You know that it must be corrupting your soul, that soul which Dean gave so much for, but you can't bring yourself to care. And that makes you dangerous. Because you fight like a man with nothing to lose. You _are_ a man with nothing to lose. You lost everything when you lost Dean, and hatred joins that guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak which makes you up.

_It's the end, where I begin._

_It's the end, where I begin._

Your aim in life was always to be like him. The first memory you have is of trailing after him, trying to copy the way he walked. More recently, you admired his precision, his deftness, the easy grace with which he handled a job. His ruthlessness. And you wanted to be like him. It's ironic really, that now you have that same ruthlessness within you. Now that he's gone, you can finally be his equal.

_Sometimes we don't learn from our mistakes._

_And sometimes we've no choice, but to walk away. Away. _

God knows you tried. You tried _so hard_. You tried with every force in your being. You tried to save him. You tried when he was still alive. You tried after he was gone. You tried to bring him back, but you _failed_. You could never be as good as Dean. He'd managed to bring you back from the dead – why couldn't you do the same for him? But you'd given up on that idea long ago. And you'd given in to the guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak-_hatred_ which makes you up.

_Trying to break my heart, well it's broke._

_Trying to hang me high, well I'm choked._

_Want it to rain on me, well I'm soaked. _

_Soaked to the skin._

The Hunt for Revenge. It's consumed you. You know that it must be corrupting your soul, that soul which Dean gave so much for, but you can't bring yourself to care. And that makes you dangerous. Because you fight like a man with nothing to lose. You _are_ a man with nothing to lose. You lost everything when you lost Dean, and hatred joins that guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak which makes you up.

_It's the end, where I begin._

_It's the end, where I begin._

Your aim in life was always to be like him. The first memory you have is of trailing after him, trying to copy the way he walked. More recently, you admired his precision, his deftness, the easy grace with which he handled a job. His ruthlessness. And you wanted to be like him. It's ironic really, that now you have that same ruthlessness within you. Now that he's gone, you can finally be his equal.

_Now I'm alive and my ghosts are gone._

_Shed all the pain I've been holding on._

_The cure for the heart is to move along,_

_So move along, so move along._

There's a small part of you, so lodged in the guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak-_hatred_ that makes you up that it's hard to find, that relishes in the aloneness. Sure, now you don't have Dean to hunt with you, to joke with you, to protect you. But you also don't have Dean to hold you back, to push you down, to give you that look - like you're one of the things he hunts. To resent you. Now, now you're free. And you're strong. You're so powerful that you don't need Dean.

_Now I'm alive and my ghosts are gone. _

_Shed all the pain I've been holding on._

_The cure for the heart is to move along,_

_So move along, so move along._

There's a small part of you, so lodged in the guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak-_hatred_ that makes you up that it's hard to find, that relishes in the aloneness. Sure, now you don't have Dean to hunt with you, to joke with you, to protect you. But you also don't have Dean to hold you back, to push you down, to give you that look - like you're one of the things he hunts. To resent you. Now, now you're free. And you're strong. You're so powerful that you don't need Dean.

_Now I'm alive and my ghosts are gone._

_Shed all the pain I've been holding on._

_What don't kill a heart only makes it strong._

There's a small part of you, so lodged in the guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak-_hatred _that makes you up that it's hard to find, that relishes in the aloneness. Sure, now you don't have Dean to hunt with you, to joke with you, to protect you. But you also don't have Dean to hold you back, to push you down, to give you that look - like you're one of the things he hunts. To resent you. Now, now you're free. And you're strong. You're so powerful that you don't need Dean. You _don't _need Dean. Do you?

_Sometimes tears say all there is to say._

_And sometimes your first scars won't ever fade away._

Trying to explain how you feel. It's pointless, really. How can you possibly articulate your feelings when you can't even bring yourself to speak? The guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak is not just a part of you. It's all that makes you up. Everything feels pointless to you now. Except the Hunt. Except for Revenge. Because what's the point of anything when Dean's gone?

_Trying to break my heart, well it's broke._

_Trying to hang me high, well I'm choked._

_Want it to rain on me, well I'm soaked. _

_Soaked to the skin._

The Hunt for Revenge. It's consumed you. You know that it must be corrupting your soul, that soul which Dean gave so much for, but you can't bring yourself to care. And that makes you dangerous. Because you fight like a man with nothing to lose. You _are_ a man with nothing to lose. You lost everything when you lost Dean, and hatred joins that guilt-anger-pain-fear-loss-desperation-grief-heartbreak which makes you up.

_It's the end, where I begin._

_It's the end, where I begin._

Your aim in life was always to be like him. The first memory you have is of trailing after him, trying to copy the way he walked. More recently, you admired his precision, his deftness, the easy grace with which he handled a job. His ruthlessness. And you wanted to be like him. It's ironic really, that now you have that same ruthlessness within you. Now that he's gone, you can finally be his equal.

_Sometimes we don't learn from our mistakes._

_And sometimes we've no choice, but to walk away. _

_Away._

**Reviews mean more to me than Dean does to Sam! =O, I know, right?**

**xx**


End file.
